


Less Than Friends

by wintergrey



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angry Sex, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Questionable Choices, Rough Sex, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-16
Updated: 2008-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintergrey/pseuds/wintergrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean dumps Scott for Warren, Scott drives his life into a ditch, the Professor thinks Logan's the right person to bring him back. That's a minor miscalculation, but not in the direction anyone expects. Scott and Logan may be less than friends, but the benefits of their unconventional relationship are undeniable. Scott learns more about Logan, and himself, than he ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is 3 chapters of something longer though it stands alone (if not happily ever after) well enough. It absolutely does not cut out in the middle of something, it resolves at the end. I just meant to keep going because people wanted more.
> 
> It's been four years (~2008) since I worked on it. I will finish it as soon as I remember what I was doing. Fourth chapter is partly finished but makes little sense to include it here at this point.

Scott woke up with his head pounding so hard he thought it was going to explode. Shockingly, he wasn’t on the floor. He knew this because unless his floor had spontaneously generated a hole, there was no way he could be dangling awkwardly into space while lying on it. 

Further bleary investigation – opening one eye – revealed that his head was about an inch from the matted green carpet. He even had his glasses on, which explained the lack of floor-holes. Shockingly (again), the floor was vomit-free. It was a good day so far. He was even in bed, or mostly in bed on the fold-out couch, with his head and one arm hanging off the end. And his head was pounding.

Pounding and pounding and crashing. Crashing? No. Those were feet, boots, on the crappy floor, and the crash of things being pitched out the window. His window. His things. Scott leapt to his feet.

Well, he got to his knees, got caught in the sheets that were half-peeled off the mattress, and hit the mattress with his thighs and belly. Only some vestiges of instinct got his hands in front of him before he face-planted in the carpet.

“I have…” he yelled, trying to extricate himself. “At least another week left, you fucker.” The way the words were coming out, he was still drunk. 

Scott managed to get up this time and lunged toward the kitchen. Handily, everything was in one room. There was a calendar there that would tell him how much longer he had before he could legally be evicted. That he had no idea what day it was did nothing to deter him.

“Look!” He pulled the calendar off the wall and gestured it wildly in the direction of his landlord. “It’s not the end of the month yet. Let’s be reasonable about this.”

“Yeah.” The man who pulled the calendar out of his hand and threw it across the room wasn’t the landlord. “Let’s be fuckin’ reasonable.”

“Logan.”

“Sunshine.”

“What the fuck are you…” Scott looked around. His apartment was empty. He’d been robbed. 

“You’re movin’ out,” Logan informed him, giving him that wickedly tight grin around the cigar clenched in his teeth. “I’m helpin’ ya.”

“No, I’m not.” Scott swayed and ran his hands over his face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yer broke, yer drunk, an’ it is the end of the fuckin’ month. Two days ago,” Logan said. He hefted a box of Scott’s books and headed for the window.

“What are you doing?”

Logan answered by heaving the box out the window. A second later, there was a crash. “Packin’ the truck,” he clarified.

“I’m not going back.” 

There was no way he was going back to the Institute. Maybe he hadn’t handled Jean coming back from her ‘training session’ on Muir Island and breaking up with him quite as gracefully as he should, but it wasn’t anyone’s damn business because he wasn’t responsible for being a good example now. Precisely why he’d moved out. He turned the kitchen tap on cold and stuck his head under it until his ears went numb, then drank from it until his stomach whined at him. There was another crash as Logan dropped another box.

“That’s still my stuff,” he said, sober enough now that he was really angry.

“Actually, it ain’t.” Logan turned around from the window and gave Scott a smile that didn’t mean good for anyone, especially Scott. Logan was never happy when things went well for Scott. “Everythin’ in here belongs to the landlord. Or, it did.”

“It… did?” 

“I bought it. Cheap too, since I’m movin’ it out.” Logan slapped Scott on the shoulder and almost knocked him over. “He said he’d be much obliged if I took your sorry ass with me. Chuck said somethin’ like it, only about me bringin’ you back, and I’m in a mood to make people happy today. I’m happy.” He grabbed a box that was overflowing with Scott’s clothes and headed for the window.

“Of all the fucking childish, stupid jackass stunts you’ve ever pulled, this is… why are you doing this?” Scott’s yelling was making his own head hurt. He should have been rational about this. Calm. Mature. But it was Logan. Goddamn Logan who’d hassled him over Jeannie and now that he didn’t have Jeannie anymore, Logan was just finding new ways to make Scott miserable. “I don’t even have anything you want. Give me my damn stuff back.”

“Come an’ get it.” Logan put his hands on his hips, looking bigger and more solid than Scott remembered. “Gonna stash it inna room at Chuck’s place. He’s got plenty empty.” 

“I… I’m not going back.” Scott looked down at himself. He owned a pair of faded blue jeans, apparently. That was all he had on him. He looked around and didn’t see his wallet. “Where’s my wallet?”

“Musta packed it by accident.” Logan stumped past and yanked the fridge open. Apparently it had spawned a dozen beers when Scott was off being drunk, or Logan had brought them. There were already four missing. Logan grabbed a fifth and cracked it open, then grabbed another and pitched it at Scott. Scott caught it before it hit him in the head. “I’ll make sure ya get it when I find it.” 

“You can’t do this.” Scott opened the beer without thinking about it and took a desperate drink. “Look, bringing me back is not going to score you any points with Jean. Build Warren a new perch, buy him a pretty mirror, or something, if you want her to like you better. She sure likes you better than me anyway.” No, he hadn’t handled this gracefully at all. He drained most of the beer, then realized that he really had to piss. “Fuck it. Fuck you. I’ll make do.”    
Somehow. He headed for the bathroom. It was cleaned out, too. At least Logan had left the damn toilet paper and his toothbrush and the last of the mouthwash. Scott brushed his teeth and wondered if he could wake up some time. But, when he went back out to the one room of his tiny apartment, it was still almost bare. Logan was efficient. As if the thought had summoned him, Logan came back in the front door. 

“Logan, can’t we work something out?” Scott tried to be reasonable. He picked up his beer and took a sip, then winced at how it tasted with the toothpaste. “Look, this is just stupid.”

“Yeah, it is.” Logan looked Scott over in that way that said that it was Scott that was stupid. 

“What the fuck do you want?” So much for reasonable. Scott was pretty sure they could hear him across the street. “It’s not like you want me to come back. It’s not like you really want all my stuff. What the hell do I have that you want? Just fucking take it and get out of my life.” He whipped the beer in his hand at Logan’s head.

The next minute he was flat on his back on the fold-out couch with Logan’s weight on him, Logan’s hand on his throat. Fuck. Logan’s face was an inch from his and Logan’s beer and the cigar had ended up somewhere else. 

“This your couch?”

“No…” Scott swallowed hard. “Came with the place.”

“Good. I didn’t want it. You probably won’t afterward.” Logan’s grin was wolfish. 

“What do you…” Scott was going to say, “What do you want?” but then Logan’s mouth was on his and he couldn’t speak. He didn’t think he’d ever speak again, he was so stunned. Logan’s tongue was in his mouth, tasting like tobacco and beer, and Logan kissed like he did everything else, fierce and unapologetic. Oh, fuck. 

Scott’s hands slid up Logan’s chest, feeling muscle through slightly damp, thin black cotton. God, that felt good, just to touch someone else. He hadn’t touched another person in so long. And, somehow, he was kissing Logan back and making these needy sounds in the back of his throat and pushing up against the thigh that Logan had shoved between his knees. 

“Ever think,” Logan said as he undid all the buttons down Scott’s fly with an expert twist of his wrist that was unbelievably hot, “that if you didn’t like me, you’d never’a minded me hittin’ on yer girl? Ya sure never minded it so much when Worthington did.” Then Logan stripped Scott’s jeans off and tossed them aside and Scott was damned because all he did was move to make it easier. “Ya never smelled like he did much for ya.”

Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Scott wanted to kick, to smash his fist into Logan’s face, but he was too horrified to move. Then Logan’s hands were on his hips and then Logan’s mouth was on his dick and Scott was grabbing at Logan’s hair, not to make him stop, but to keep him there. Oh, Jesus, Logan was good at it, too. Then, it hit Scott that he had told Logan to take what he wanted and, oh, someone or something have mercy on him, it was the best-worst mistake he’d ever made. 

When Logan stopped, Scott gasped and tugged at Logan’s hair to no avail. Logan’s hands locked on his wrists and slammed them into the mattress on either side of his head. “Hope you were payin’ attention there,” Logan said, and he still had that wolf-smile on and it made Scott’s dick twitch to see it. “I like it like that. Don’t forget.”

Scott hadn’t been paying attention and he was going to have to fake it when – what the fucking hell, what the hell, he was going to do it and he hadn’t even argued with himself about it – he went down on Logan. 

He didn’t have time to answer because Logan kissed him and all his thoughts went out of his head. Kissing was so underrated. Why would anyone ever complain about that sandpaper scrape of stubble, why would they complain about the taste of beer, about the taste of cock… women made no sense. 

It was only when he heard Logan’s fly unzipped that Scott realized that the kissing had been a brilliant distraction that let Logan get both Scott’s wrists in one hand and somehow he’d got hold of the lube Scott used to jack off. Scott could smell it and suddenly, Logan’s fingers were in him. 

“Logan, fuck…” Scott didn’t know if he was protesting or not. His body came up and slid his aching dick against Logan’s bare belly, against the flat muscle and soft fur, and he whined. Logan knew just where to hit him to make him want more, and this was the most insane thing that had ever happened to him. It made Jean dumping him for Warren look like pure reason. 

“That’s th’ plan,” Logan rumbled. He kissed Scott again before Scott could process the implications of that and kept finger-fucking him until Scott was shaking with it and one inhalation away from begging.

Instead, he used that breath to curse Logan’s name as Logan pushed into him. Fuck, but the man was big and he wasn’t patient; Scott breathed and swore and tried to remember how to do this. He bit Logan’s lip when Logan kissed him to silence the profanity and that just got him a pleased snarl when the blood flowed. Logan’s weight pushed him down, carried Logan into him, and then Logan was still long enough for the pain to ease. 

Once Logan started moving, though, it wasn’t long before Scott was swearing again. This time, it was pleasure, and he was using words he hadn’t used in years. Jeannie was not one for anything like that and Scott tried not to think anything bothersome during sex. Logan didn’t give a damn what Scott thought or said or felt, he was just taking what he wanted and it was beyond fantastic. 

Logan got Scott’s knees up over his shoulders and long-dicked him until Scott was arching and grabbing at the sheets, pouring sweat and making incomprehensible noises. The man moved like something made to fuck, and Scott opened his eyes to see Logan looking down at him with feral curiosity. He met Scott’s eyes and ran a tongue over his teeth like he could still taste Scott there and that was all it took. 

Come splattered up Scott’s chest and throat and he was arching to get Logan deeper. The high, thin noise he kept hearing was him, keening as he came in hard shudders. He couldn’t breathe, it had him so tight, pure pleasure without any conscience to it. 

He was still shaking and trying to breathe when Logan pulled out. The emptiness felt like falling and Scott jerked with adrenaline, trying to grasp what he’d done wrong to make it stop. Logan grabbed him by the hips and flipped him like he weighed nothing, pulled him back. Scott had his knees under him, wide apart, and was tilting his hips up like begging before he knew it. 

That must have been right, because Logan took him and started fucking him again, and Scott pushed back to hear Logan’s hips smack his ass over and over again. The noises he was making into the bare mattress sounded like, “Please” and “Don’t stop” but he couldn’t be sure. It was like someone else was saying it. Someone he didn’t have to think about. 

Logan got one hand in Scott’s hair and pulled his head back so that those noises came out clear and sharp. “Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop. Please. Hard.” That was Scott’s voice, it was what was echoing around in his head. 

The words got a grunt out of Logan and he jerked Scott’s head to the side. Then his weight was on Scott’s back and his teeth were tearing at the curve of Scott’s neck, his mouth sucking the blood up under Scott’s skin. 

“Oh, God, make it hurt.” There was no being quiet, not with Logan’s thick cock filling him up, not with his smell and his head overwhelming everything. Logan’s teeth broke skin and Scott realized that he was hard all over again. 

Logan leaned back, relinquishing Scott’s hair for a grip on his hip with one hand. The other hand found Scott’s hypersensitive dick and stroked, calluses raking at the thin skin. Scott yelped and twitched and Logan laughed at him, laughed and pushed in deep with a grunt. “Come.” 

Scott would have eaten glass before obeying an order from Logan, right up until now. Logan’s hand was tight and cruel and Logan fucked him harder now, his rhythm getting unsteady, his breath coming in short animal noises that sounded unbelievably hot. A few more rough strokes and Scott was coming all over again. 

This time, it was longer and slower and when he felt Logan jerk and snarl, he shook and it felt like coming anew. Logan stopped stroking him to grab his hips and Scott arched his back and took it, over and over again, gasping raggedly as Logan came. 

After, Logan let him slump forward and pulled out. The clink of Logan’s belt buckle brought Scott the vague awareness that he was face-down and naked on a dirty mattress, covered in his own come, ass in the air, and Logan hadn’t even taken his damn boots off. And he didn’t care. Not a damn bit. 

Scott rolled over on his side and grabbed a corner of the sheet to wipe some of the come off of his body. He dabbed at it a little, then gave up, slumping back down. “Get what you came for?” he asked, realizing that he’d brought it all on himself by telling Logan to take what he wanted.

“Nope.”

Scott’s jeans hit him in the face. “Then…”

“Get dressed, Slim.” Logan walked away and Scott wriggled into his jeans. He was slick between his asscheeks and down his thighs, but he was not going to have this argument naked. 

Once he had the jeans on, he got to his feet. Fuck, but he was wobbly. “I’m not…” he started to say. Logan was standing there with one thumb hooked in his belt, the half-empty case of beer dangling from the other hand, just looking at him with that “You are such a fuckup, Summers” expression on his face.

“First, ya want to come back,” Logan said. “Chuck says so. And if ya don’t come back, ya can’t have your room on the second floor back, and how the fuck are ya gonna have any fun drivin’ Wings an’ Jeannie around the damn twist makin’ all that noise ya make when I’m fuckin’ you?” There was that grin again and Scott wanted to punch it. 

There was a pounding on the door and the landlord started yelling. “What the hell are you doing, Summers? Get out of here before I call the cops and have you for tresspassing.”

“Ya can’t have ‘im,” Logan bellowed back. “I just did and I ain’t in the mood to share. Fuck off.” Scott stared at Logan in horror. “What?”

At least at the mansion, Charles was there as some kind of safety net. Scott took a deep breath and summoned up his dignity. Whatever kind of dignity you could have with nothing but a pair of jeans to your name, jeans that were getting less redeemable by the minutes. “Nothing,” he said mildly. “Were you going to stand around here playing neanderthal, or were you going to drive me back to the Institute?”

Logan gave him a long look. “Get in the truck.”

Scott kept his chin up on the way out the door, past the landlord, right until Logan smacked him on the ass. “Think I got a use for this, after all,” he said to the landlord, all rumbling cheer. “I’ll be takin’ it back, too.”

Right. That was why Scott hated him. Good to remember.

#

It had taken the afternoon to unpack the truck and Scott sure as hell remembered why he hated Logan by the time they were done. He hated Logan even more when Logan got a hand in his hair, pushed him to his knees, unzipped, and pushed his cock into Scott’s mouth. He sucked Logan off anyway because it seemed like a matter of pride – he didn’t want to owe Logan anything, after all – and felt deeply gratified at making him shudder and snarl while coming down Scott’s throat. 

Then, somehow, he forgot about hating Logan when Logan bent him over the footboard of the bed and fucked him until all he could speak was gibberish. There was no remembering at all while Logan finger-fucked him after coming in him, kissing him, biting him, pinning him to the bed until Scott whined and writhed and they were hard again. 

After that, Logan fucked him until Scott understood the phrase “though the mattress”. Scott’s throat was sore from cursing and whining and howling. He’d tried to be polite but Logan had ripped the pillow away and it had snowed feathers around them for the longest time, like they were caught in the world’s most perverse snow globe. After that he’d stopped trying to be quiet until he was lying limp under Logan’s weight.

“I need a beer.” Logan smacked Scott on the ass and pushed himself up. 

Scott lay there, too worn out to be offended, and dared to peer at the clock. Shit, it was almost eleven. They’d been having sex for more than three hours straight. No wonder he was tired. Logan, on the other hand, was whistling tunelessly while he dressed. 

“Want anything?”

Scott processed this and came up with enough saliva to get his tongue loose from the roof of his mouth. “Beer’s good. Sandwich.” He needed something to replace the energy he’d lost. Logan pulled the door open and Scott wondered if he could be seen from the hall.

“Hey, Wings,” Logan said with that hellish cheer that always made Scott want to hit him… only now, it wasn’t directed at him and it was kind of amusing. “Need something?”

“…noise… unacceptable… very upset.” Warren was keeping his voice down. Nice and polite.

“Why’s she upset? She ain’t datin’ him no more.” Scott heard Warren’s strangled noise of exasperation and smiled, rolling over to sprawl bonelessly on his back. 

“…no choice but to speak to Dr. Xavier… have to tell him…”

“You think he missed that?” Logan laughed and started to close the door. “Damn, I best get my beer and do it again. Maybe twice. Maybe better. Hell, even if he didn’t, I think I will.” He drew the door shut behind him with a click.

Scott lay there and started laugh helplessly. The worst thing was, Logan might be serious. He could do it again. There was no way that Warren had that kind of stamina. Ridiculously, that made him feel smug. Better. He felt better about all of it. 

He still hated Logan, but that never stopped them from making a good team any other time. Scott closed his eyes. He should be resting. God knew, hell, everyone knew, he was going to need some strength.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not-being-in-a-relationship is going swimmingly—or at least Scott isn't drowning—until he crashes the Blackbird in the far north with no one but Logan for company. Things seem manageable until Logan's past catches up with him and what little is left of Logan after that catches up with Scott.

It wasn’t like things were back to normal. Jean and Warren were still making sweet at each other in that horrifically calculating ‘let’s not hurt Scott’s feelings’ way that was worse than if they’d fucked on the breakfast table. Worse, they were complete sincere about it. They really didn’t want to make things harder.

Scott would have been happier if they’d understood that there was no way this wasn’t going to be hideous, and just gone about their lives. In the most bitter cliché of all, he was happy for her. Warren could have gone to hell, but Scott was glad Jeannie was happy now. He knew she had to believe him, it wasn’t like she couldn’t read his mind. 

Getting out of the mansion had been a huge relief, heading north to check out some unusual readings that Hank had picked up over Alaska. That he had to go with Logan had been less appealing. Logan was the worst flyer in the world, and it got even less fun because Scott was flying the Blackbird. That made him the source of Logan’s misery, according to Logan’s furry little feral brainstem. 

“Yer doin’ that on purpose,” Logan snarled when the first turbulence hit them.

“No, not really.” Scott didn’t bother to harass Logan about it. 

Sure, he could have dropped some altitude, he could have pulled a roll to show Logan what it was like when Scott really wanted to fuck with him. But he’d never really found Logan’s abject terror when flying particularly funny. He could see how someone who couldn’t really die as far as anyone knew would be rather fucked up at the idea of being entangled in an air disaster. It wasn’t compassion so much as the fact that Scott respected flying and all its dangers more than he liked fucking with Logan’s head. 

“Stop it, Summers.” 

“Would if I could. Shut up and let me fly.”

The wind was changing with that intensity that boded no good. Scott could almost hear warm and cold layers of artic air squealing past each other, building up static and tension. He pulled up the weather radar display and took a good grip on the stick. It was going to get ugly out there.

They passed ugly on the third lightning strike, the one that blew out half the electric in the plane. That was after Scott had discovered that their communications gear had quit working. Surprisingly, Logan was completely calm at this point. He was already up and packing supplies to make sure they took something with them when they bailed out. The plane started to reel even though Scott still had manual control. 

“Let’s go.” Logan got him by the back of the uniform parka and hauled him up as Scott undid his harness. Logan rammed his claws into a bulkhead to hold steady, his other hand tight on Scott’s collar while Scott pulled on a parachute. “Out.” 

The wind ripped the emergency door away as soon as it popped and the poor Blackbird twisted in the air. The world outside was full of white fists that pounded Scott back against Logan. Strong hands picked him up like a puppy and flung him out into the storm. Scott was sure that he heard the words, “I’ll find you,” as he went soaring out into a cold hell.

#

Scott was dangerously warm, dangerously comfortable. The alarm bells in his head woke him and he opened his eyes. All he could see was red, wild living red that washed over everything in front of him and crushed it. Scott closed his eyes and dug around in his parka, only to find it torn down one side and those pockets empty. He pawed in the snow in hopes of finding his goggles to no avail. 

Finally, he gave up and pulled a length of bandage out of his first aid kit, using it to bind his eyes. He could deal with being blind. He used some of the tape to patch the parka up a little, though his black uniform underneath was well-insulated. Then it was time to assess the situation properly.

The radio-satellite unit should have been working but it was all static. Getting up a hill would probably help. He could do that easily enough. The wind down here was still bad, but he would manage. Pulling the hood of his parka up to protect his head and face made it bearable.

Dismantling his parachute went quickly with a utility knife. He had matches, lighter, tinderbox, meal bars, the knife, the rope and fabric of the parachute, and he wasn’t terribly worried about predators. All he had to do was get his back to something and open his eyes in a pinch. 

All in all, it was ridiculously refreshing. His compass was even one that flipped open so that he could touch the needle; he’d had that since he was a kid. Scott made sure he had everything in place and headed in the direction that he’d been gazing. He might find a walking stick in the debris and then he’d be okay. 

Scott’s watch wasn’t analog and he cursed his stupidity; he had to guess at the time and that was never reliable. After what felt like two hours, he’d found trees and some rock, but that was it. However, he had found where ‘uphill’ was and he was making good headway. It shouldn’t have taken Logan this long to find him. Back to a tree, he crouched down and pulled out a meal bar. 

“There y’are.” Logan’s voice was a surprise, but not entirely unexpected. 

“Apparently, yes.” Scott tucked half the meal bar back in its pocket. Using the branch he’d picked up as a walking stick, he got to his feet. “Where were you?”

“Workin’ out where we are.” Logan crunched through the snow, coming closer. Scott could hear the sharp inhalation that was Logan making sure he was in one piece and that was somewhat gratifying. 

“Where’s that? I can’t get my radio to work.”

“Ain’t gonna work ‘cause we’re on top of an old project site. Guess somethin’s still active in it.” Logan nudged Scott to the left. “That way. Night’s fallin’.”

Scott was even less concerned now. All in all, this was kind of like an unexpected vacation. Logan was a good hunter, a brilliant tracker, and made to survive. Scott thought he’d have been well enough on his own but now he could relax. He could hear Logan tromping on ahead and he followed the sound. 

#

The shelter Logan found presented as aging concrete under Scott’s hand, pitted and mossy. He followed Logan deeper in and felt a twisted steel hatch that marked a threshold. Logan went ahead, quiet except for the occasional warning. Getting out of the wind was a good thing; they could talk without shouting.

“Did you manage to hang onto that stuff you packed?” Scott wondered if there was anything left of the Blackbird, as well.

“Nope. Found it later, though. Got it on me. Guess ya didn’t think t’ pack an extra pair of goggles.” 

“I did.” Scott gestured at his torn coat. “Want to go find them for me?” He was fine without. Stepping in a deep pit in the floor didn’t help his dignity but he caught himself before he fell and kept going. 

Logan snorted and his feet kept on in front of Scott. “Nah. Doesn’t bother me if ya can’t see.” Scott couldn’t even be offended by that; he didn’t expect it to bother anyone. Gonna find whatever’s makin’ the radios not work, then go get wood,” Logan continued. Apparently adventures made him downright chatty. Who knew?

The concrete changed to steel as they moved downward and inward. There were doors here and there but none of them opened. “This way,” Logan said and Scott took a corner after him. A rattle of metal was the sound of an industrial lift being opened. 

“You’ve been here before,” Scott said as he realized it. If they were where Logan had been treated up here, that couldn’t be easy on him and the place could be downright dangerous. 

“Or somewhere like it. Probably need to go down a few floors and we’ll find what we need. No way we can walk out of the radius, not any time soon.” There was the distant dripping of water before the lift dropped slowly. 

Scott tried to keep it clear in his head how they’d got in, but it wasn’t easy. Maybe he should have stayed near the surface. Maybe Logan didn’t want to be down here alone. 

“It’s here.” Down a hallway and then they were at a dead end. The door wouldn’t open. Scott heard the click of Logan’s claws coming out, then the rending, spark-spewing sounds of a door console coming to an end. “That’s…” Logan started to say but then the door slid open and the words got cut off as Logan fell back against the wall.

“Logan?” Scott had his back to the other wall and was trying to figure out what was wrong. There was a gnat-whine rising and falling like the ghost of an air raid siren but Scott couldn’t determine anything else. Even the air didn’t smell wrong. 

Logan was making these terrible, wounded noises and Scott reached for him blindly. “Come here. Logan.” He cut his fingers on one of Logan’s claws while fumbling for Logan’s hands. “What’s wrong?” He’d never heard anything like those noises, never seen Logan flinch from anything other than the occasional impaling, or being crushed under a tank or building. 

Logan moved, an explosion of force that sent Scott tumbling back into the room they had just opened. He hit the ground on his back and rolled to his feet. His walking stick went bouncing away. “Logan! It’s Scott. Cut this shit out!” He was screaming at the top of his lungs, hearing his voice get lost in this huge room. He started working his way back toward the door.

The strangled noises continued until Scott heard what sounded like Logan’s head slamming against the metal wall. He headed that way as fast as he could, but Logan wheeled and fled before he got there. His footsteps retreated at a full-out run and Scott was left alone.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.” Scott pulled his thoughts together and shouted out into the ether. Once upon a time, it might have done some good. Now, he wasn’t expecting Jean to pick up on it. Whatever they’d once had was gone.

“Okay,” he said to himself. “You have to turn off whatever it is making that noise, or whatever’s jamming the radios. You can do that, if Logan’s right about this room.” He could figure out the consoles from the configuration, maybe. If he were lucky, there might be something stamped on them that would be a clue. 

Scott found what Logan had been carrying out in the hall and dragged it in, then collected his own things. Feeling along the walls and consoles found him an alcove where he decided he was going to ‘live’. Out of the room, he felt his way down the hall to a door. No fancy door plate here. 

Scott figured out where the handle was. He missed it on the first kick, broke it off on the second. Broom closet inside by the feel of things. “Guess even the evil military industrial complex needs to tidy up.” A tap gave some sluggish water that smelled clean, but Scott didn’t trust it. There was some towelling and bits of equipment around. And a toolbox, cold against his fingers. 

“Fuck me,” Scott said, grinning. Real tools. The room would make a decent bathroom and he’d use what he found in here to get by. He’d use one of the buckets when he ventured up to get snow to melt. The wooden shelving was going to be his first victim. He broke down one section, tucked the wood under his arm, grabbed the toolbox, and headed back to the control room. 

#

One day in, the shine had worn off and it was only the possibility that there were nuclear materials or worse here that kept Scott from using his eyes to gut the place. Instead, he had made it to the surface once, worked out where everything was, eaten, slept on a bed of emergency fire blankets he’d found in the broom closet, and now he was awake again. There was no sign of Logan. 

Scott found that certain equipment was identified by bolted-down plates with serial numbers and words on them. The only problem was that his memory of fifty-year old army equipment naming schemes was rusty and Logan’s wouldn’t have been any better. At least Logan would have been able to describe things. He was just going to have to work it out and hope that he didn’t press any red buttons. 

A low rumble brought Scott out of his work and at first he thought it was his stomach. But it came again, louder. Scott dropped the screwdriver he held, spinning around with his back to the console. 

“Logan?”

Just the snarl again, but damned if Scott didn’t know it. He’d heard it before. 

“Logan, it’s Scott.” He crouched down to get low, to protect his belly, to look less threatening. “Look, I don’t know what’s happening, but…” He was grabbed by the coat and shaken violently, then thrown to fall face down yards away. “Logan, no.” 

Something had finally cracked inside Logan’s adamantium skull and Scott was stuck here with what was left. He got to his knees, started to crawl away, but Logan picked him up and threw him again, still snarling. Scott hit a chair and thought he felt his ribs break. He wasn’t going to survive this if he didn’t make friends with whatever still lurked in Logan’s brain.

Scott pulled off his coat and threw it aside, then unzipped his uniform all the way down. The more he smelled familiar, the better. Maybe the uniform wasn’t helping. Scott tried to take refuge under the console as he worked the top off. He was just getting out of it when Logan’s hand locked on his ankle and he was yanked out.

“Logan,” Scott said, keeping his voice soft. It was really hard not to panic while he was now half-naked and blind and trapped down here in Logan’s hell, but that was only going to make things worse. He could feel Logan’s breath on his skin as Logan caught his scent. “It’s okay.” He kept very still and Logan didn’t hit him or throw him this time, just dragged him by the arm toward the safe alcove where Scott had chosen to hole up.

It was so cold that Scott started to shake, and his ribs sang with pain. He felt for Logan’s hand and stroked it, working his hand up Logan’s arm. Still dressed, that was good. Meant there might be some human left inside. When Logan dropped him, Scott bit back a whimper of pain and reached up to find Logan’s face. Logan tolerated the touch for a moment, then shook it off. 

Scott pushed himself up and licked the undercurve of Logan’s jaw, his tongue rasping over stubble. He’d licked there before, knew Logan liked it, but had never realized what a submissive signal it was. He allowed himself a soft whine, the kind he knew he made when they were in bed together, the one he made when Logan pushed too far and he wasn’t going to say anything because it was still good. 

That seemed to work because Logan stilled and let Scott lick and kiss. Scott dared to run a hand down to cup Logan’s cock and found it hard. Some things hadn’t changed. Scott always wondered how low their sex sunk into the primal and he found it here at rock bottom. He just had to get out of this without being hurt more and they might still be okay. 

At least they could make friends. Scott’s fingers found Logan’s zipper and pulled it down slowly. At least Logan refused to wear a uniform and Scott wasn’t having to fight with all that. His fingertips brushed hot flesh and he was acutely aware of the low rumble in Logan’s chest, Logan’s sweat, and the heat of his body. 

The real surprise was how fast his own body responded, in spite of pain and cold and fear; he almost bit back the whimper of need that rose but he let it happen. Logan’s cheek brushed his and Logan’s tongue curled around his ear and Scott whimpered again. It was already hard to hold onto the knowledge that he had to do this to get out of here in one piece. 

He slid Logan’s cock out, the thick heat of it filling his hand, because he wanted it, no other reason. Pulling away from the rough tongue bath of his cheek and ear, Scott licked tentatively at the head of Logan’s cock, finding it wet already. The smell went right down to his dick and he moaned. Logan growled and rocked his hips; that was all the permission Scott needed.

It would be too perfectly ironic to get ‘saved’ just now, just as he was going down on Logan with desperate noises, rubbing the heel of one hand over his own dick where it was a hard ridge under his uniform. Fuck, but he was turned on. The danger didn’t deter him in the least; thinking about it just made him shudder and push his mouth down on Logan’s cock even further. 

Scott was drowning in Logan’s scent, gagging on the thickness of his cock as Logan’s hips started moving to fuck his mouth. Scott held himself up on one elbow, used his free hand to stroke Logan’s furred belly and down to cup his balls. Logan was leaning over him now, making low, pleased animal noises. Scott took his hand away to undo his own pants, to touch himself. It hurt too much not to. 

That was some kind of mistake. Maybe the sound of the zipper or the fresh release of scent as Scott yanked his briefs aside to free his dick set Logan off. He didn’t know, but Logan grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed him face down onto the floor. 

“Logan,” Scott whispered, his voice thin from having his throat pressed into concrete. “Please.” 

Logan’s other hand clawed at Scott’s pants and Scott realized that he’d been an idiot. He’d thought the blowjob was going to do the trick. Struggling for breath, he pushed his pants and briefs down, then got his knees up. It hurt his ribs and he was whimpering, wasting precious air.

Then, Logan moved and Scott could move again. He lunged toward where he thought his pack might be, but that was a mistake, too. Logan got him by the hips and dragged him back and all Scott could think of was how much this was going to hurt. He took a breath and tried to relax, tried to just let it happen. It wasn’t like it was the first time… he didn’t think about those things anymore, that far-off orphan past. 

It hurt, it hurt enough to make tears soak the wrappings over Scott’s eyes and stream down his cheeks. It hurt enough that he clawed at the floor and bit his lip until it bled. He was shaking by the time Logan was inside him, but he managed to hold himself together. 

Logan leaned over him, making this noise that Scott realized was purring. Soft, deep purrs, and Logan licked at his neck behind his ear, over and over. Affection. Simple, animal affection. Logan wrapped an arm around Scott and held him close as he licked and nuzzled and nipped; it was so unreal to feel that unfettered fondness focused on him. 

The time gave Scott a moment to remember that there was a stick of sunscreen balm in the pocket of his pants where he’d shoved it earlier that day. All the purring and tasting seemed to have Logan busy and Scott worked the tube out carefully. He got the lid off and crushed the tube so that the thick contents oozed into his palm. 

Logan let Scott work a hand between them to touch. He hoped that the damn stuff wouldn’t sting or burn; he couldn’t afford to anger the animal but he didn’t want the man to remember that he’d done damage, he didn’t want to be living with the damage, either. Logan was a son of a bitch, but he got off on the pain he caused in fights, not like this. The teeth on Scott’s neck and the little growl were a warning that he ignored, moving slowly as he slid slick fingers over Logan’s shaft. 

It wasn’t perfect but it was good enough. When Logan started moving, going back to licking the back of Scott’s neck with disturbing tenacity, it ached but there was none of that searing pain that screamed about damage. It even started to feel good as Logan moved with long, slow strokes. Scott was dazed by how surreal this was, that Logan was actually gentler as a beast than as a man, at least for the moment. 

Logan planted his hands on either side of Scott’s head and started moving faster, grunting with each stroke. His feral self had no pride to defend by being silent about the pleasure he got from Scott’s body. The sounds he made sank right into Scott’s skin, heavy with desire, and Scott found himself getting hard again. 

Face and shoulders still against the floor, Scott rocked back to meet Logan’s thrusts, and pleasure ran through him. He moaned and shuddered when Logan’s cock slid against him just right. That got a choked snarl out of Logan and then a hot, wet lick along Scott’s cheek, through the drying tears. 

“That’s so good,” Scott whispered, arching up into the hot curve of Logan’s body, ignoring the streak of pain in his ribs. “Fuck, Logan, please…” 

He wanted this so badly that he wondered if the feral nature was infectious. The noises that came out of him were animal and desperate. He let go of thinking and let himself move, ass pushing back for more, knees spread as wide as they could with his pants down around his thighs, cheek grinding into the concrete, hips grinding to coax Logan into more, harder. 

Logan gave Scott everything he wanted, answering every whine and yelp with a snarl that shivered in his bones and a deep thrust. Scott shuddered and reached under his belly to jerk off with the hand that was still slick with balm. His dick leaked heat between his fingers and onto the floor as he moved. The sounds deepened to grunts as he hunched between Logan’s cock and his own hand, aching to come. 

Suddenly, Logan was moving hard and fast, hips slamming against Scott’s ass and grinding him further into the floor. The gasps and growls were the sounds of Logan losing control and Logan straightened, hands clenching on Scott’s hips to hold him up while Logan started coming. Feeling Logan lose it left Scott howling with pleasure as his own orgasm tore into him. Hanging from Logan’s hands, he jerked and writhed, spattering his chest and the floor with come as Logan filled him up. 

After the shaking stopped, Logan pulled out and Scott was expecting him to turn and leave. Instead, a hot tongue washed over him as Logan licked up his own come until Scott was clean, purring all the while. Then he knocked Scott over onto his back and licked at Scott’s dick and chest until they were clean. Scott wished for nothing more than to see it, but he got to keep feeling it when Logan licked the come-slick hand Scott offered him. 

“We good?” Scott reached out tentatively and scratched the nape of Logan’s neck. The rumble he got sounded like an affirmative. “Okay.” It felt so good not to be lonely. 

It had to be pure perversity that made Logan pull away as soon as the thought crossed Scott’s mind. Scott wriggled back into his pants and crawled across the floor to find his coat and uniform jacket. He didn’t want to ruin things by standing up if being bipedal was something that put Logan-the-beast off. 

He could hear Logan’s feet now, moving away. “Logan?” But the footsteps didn’t stop. They receded until Scott was alone and trembling. He felt around and found the jacket and the coat. Pulling them on helped. Maybe Logan would come back, maybe he wouldn’t. The least Scott could do was keep trying to get them out of there. He remembered to eat a meal bar before he went back to work to keep his strength up.

#

Hours passed and Scott thought he’d worked out the design of the room in his head. Intuition and what he remembered of military installments he’d been in before told him that he was probably in front of the control panel for the radar and communications arrays. He sat down there and exhaled slowly. He could do this.

It felt like forever that he sat there with his hands touching the keys and dials. Sometimes the labels were stamped and he could feel them, painstakingly working out the words. Finally, he thought he knew which switches would shut down the transmitters that were interfering with their radio and satellite signals. Slowly, he moved his hands over the controls, letting instinct guide him. 

Nothing exploded. 

Scott pulled out his radio unit and flicked it on. The radio crackled to life immediately and after a moment, the uplink chimed. Scott tried not to drop it as he shook with relief. Another deep breath and he started talking, surfing the air waves for help. 

“Cyclops?” That was Hank’s voice. Oh, fuck, God, thank you. 

“Beast, we went down about…”

“We found the Blackbird.” Hank cut him off. “We’ve been searching that area but were cut off by another storm and some issues with communications. How early did you bail out?” 

“We were pretty high,” Scott said. “I think I fixed the communications problem. We’re at the old base that’s up here. Logan knew where it is.”

“Can he give us coordinates?”

“No. Something’s wrong with him; he’s not himself. Look, I’m going to take my radio unit above ground and you can home in on that.” Scott got to his feet and made his way to where he’d left his walking stick.

“We can’t be there for some hours,” Hank said. “Will you be okay for another eight? It’s still too rough out there for the choppers.” 

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. I’m going to work on whatever’s bugging Logan and we’ll see you when you get here.” 

There was a scuffling noise on the other end and then, “Scott?” Jeannie. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. I lost both pairs of goggles in the crash and it took me a while to find and turn off the masking transmissions here on the base, that’s all.” She sounded genuinely worried but it didn’t warm Scott the way he thought it would.

“Oh, God. I’ve been so worried.” She sounded like she’d been crying. 

“I’m fine. Worry about Logan if you want to worry about someone.” Scott heard the sound of boots and headed for the alcove to settle down in the ‘den’. He didn’t want to disturb Logan by being out of that safe space where Logan might have trouble recognizing him again. “Look, I have to go. Tell Beast I’ll put the transmitter on and we’ll be waiting.”

“Okay.” Jean sniffled and he heard her pass the radio over.

“Anything else?” Hank asked.

“We’re good here.” There wasn’t anything Scott needed right now except to fix Logan before they went back. “Scott out.” He flicked the radio off to conserve the battery and put it away where it wouldn’t get broken. Logan’s footsteps came closer and the sound changed so that Scott knew he’d come in the room.

“Hey,” Scott said, low. “You better?” 

There was silence but for the footsteps and then something hit the ground in front of Scott. He felt for it and found fur. A rabbit, a big one at that. 

“Thanks.” Scott felt around and found it neatly gutted. All he had to do was pull off the skin. “Dinner.” There was a soft noise and Logan’s hand touched his hair. “You coming in for the night?”

The question was answered when Logan’s hand pulled away and his footsteps headed back for the door. Scott didn’t try and stop him. That little whine was still on the air and he didn’t know how much of the spectrum it covered. Once Logan was gone, Scott got to work skinning the rabbit so he could cook it over the broken wood from the broom closet. Maybe he’d go back and find something that worked as a pan.

#

There had to be a way to turn off whatever Logan had set off. There was no sense trying to fix the door, so Scott had to find the security system and he had to do it in the next eight hours so maybe Logan could find himself again before they were rescued. Scott stood in the middle of the room and tried to put himself back into old training videos and past experiences. He’d had a good dinner, he was full of rabbit and melted snow water and a chocolate bar. His brain should work now.

“The security console should be here.” He walked himself to the front and off to the right, finding the console that faced a little differently than the rest. The surface told him nothing, but then he found the headset hanging under the console, when he bumped it with his knee. It wasn’t plugged in but Scott figured that out with a little fumbling. The headphones started squawking immediately. 

“Security procedure X-9 invoked. Please respond. Security procedure X-9 invoked.”

“Yeah, I’m trying. Bastards.” Scott put his hands on the console and felt a little vibration over to one side. He pulled off the headphones and felt around. He couldn’t figure it out; underneath the console it was an incomprehensible tangle of boxes and wires. There wasn’t any guarantee the system was even working properly. He was pretty sure the frequency of the alarms was hugely off. 

After a moment to consider the ‘how bad could it be?’ answers, Scott grabbed his walking stick. He felt for his target, that little vibration of something having an electronic fit. Once he had it, he stepped back and, with completely professional skill, he beat the shit out of it. 

That done, he put the headphones back on. “Security procedure X-9 terminated. Please proceed.” 

“No shit.” Terminated was right. Scott threw the headphones down and gave the console a last smash. Fucking thing. Now he could go up and put his radio out for the rescue crews to track.

#

It was wild out, ribbons of snow torn out of the sky whipping across the drifts with incredible speed. Scott felt around until he was out of the tunnel leading inward, then he followed the edge of it back up, crawling along the foot-wide concrete ledge that had been scoured bare by the wind. Too far up for his own good, a gust hit him and he almost fell down onto concrete below except that a hand closed on his coat. 

“Logan.” Scott stopped moving. “I have to get up there.” He pointed upward. “I need to leave the radio.” 

He couldn’t tell what Logan understood, but from that point on, he had help. At the top, he found a steel fencepost embedded in concrete. He strapped the radio to that with all the medical tape he had left and set it to emergency transmit. 

“Feeling better?” Scott wasn’t even sure Logan was there as he turned around, hunching into his coat, and tried to work out how he was going to get down. Logan’s hand found his and tugged and Scott smiled even as he knew that there was no way Logan was back to himself with that gesture. 

He let Logan lead him down to his walking stick, and then he headed back into the tunnels. This time, Logan followed him. They went all the way back down to the little den where Scott shook out his coat then checked to see if the fire were still going. 

“They’re coming in a few hours,” Scott said as he put wood on the fire. “They’ll take us home.” 

He found himself flat on his back once the words were out of his mouth. “It’s okay,” he whispered, trying to soothe with his voice and his hands. 

Logan wasn’t having any of it. His hands were rough, pulling at Scott’s uniform until Scott slid out of it and settled back on the blankets. It was fucking cold, but this was better than Logan figuring out that he could get through the uniform with his claws. Logan’s mouth was rough and hot on the insides of his thighs, making Scott shiver more than the cold. This time, he could get at a supplies pocket of his pack and he found the petroleum jelly in there; it was supposed to be used for tending to machinery but this was a better purpose. 

When Logan licked at his balls, Scott shuddered and moaned. That was so good. He spread his thighs and let Logan do what he wanted. What Logan wanted was to tongue-bathe Scott roughly and very thoroughly, biting here and there at his thighs and belly, until Scott was panting with it. 

“Here.” Scott grabbed the front of Logan’s jacket and pulled him up. He kissed Logan and after a moment, Logan seemed to get the hang of it. “You remember that.” Scott scritched the nape of Logan’s neck and Logan answered him by licking up his jaw. “Okay, that’s good too,” Scott said, laughing. 

This time it was so much easier. Logan was content to rumble and lick and occasionally even kiss while Scott got himself slick first, then undid Logan’s pants. “Fuck, but you have the nicest cock,” Scott breathed, secure the fact that Logan wasn’t really registering any of this. 

Scott felt the briefest flash of guilt at having sex with Logan while Logan was so much not himself, but then he remembered that Logan hadn’t exactly been conscientious about it either. His slick hand stroking the hot length of Logan’s cock made Logan growl and his hips pushed forward. 

“Yeah, me, too,” Scott said. He wrapped his thighs around Logan’s waist and guided Logan into him. It hurt, but nothing like before. Scott shuddered and breathed through it, knowing it would pass. Even if it didn’t, he wanted this, wanted one more time with the feral living under Logan’s skin. All this time, he’d been thinking that it was the beast that made Logan harsh, and instead it was the man. 

Logan’s big hands stroked Scott’s face and hair, moving like bear paws, rubbing over what was his as he moved inside Scott. He purred, the deep rumble going right through into Scott’s chest. His tongue washed hot over the curve of Scott’s neck when Scott slid his arms around Logan’s neck and let his head fall back. 

Scott moved with Logan, keeping their bodies close together, wallowing in the blended cacophony of their cries and grunts and gasps. He didn’t bother with words, just whined and writhed and Logan moved faster, bit at the tender skin on Scott’s throat with shocking delicacy. That made Scott arch and shudder, clenching around Logan’s cock and making him growl. 

Things disintegrated until Scott forgot everything but how good it felt. His nails were raking Logan’s skin, his dick leaving wet streaks in the soft hair where Logan’s shirt had ridden up to bare his belly. The loose buckles of Logan’s jacket chimed as they bounced off of Scott’s hips and that just made it all hotter. 

It didn’t last nearly long enough, even though Scott’s body kept trying to scream at him that it was far too long. This time, Scott was the one who lost it first, when Logan growled and grabbed a handful of his hair to yank his head back so that Logan could sink his teeth into Scott’s throat. The jerk and the pain left Scott arching and wailing, coming over Logan’s belly. 

Logan lasted a minute longer, just enough for Scott to think he had composed himself. Logan changed rhythm and was suddenly fucking Scott fast and deep, leaning back, nails digging into Scott’s ass. Scott arched with pleasure and cried out again as Logan howled, coming with frenetic strokes. 

Scott sagged down onto the floor and Logan’s weight came down on him. Logan made contented noises and didn’t seem inclined to move in the least. For his part, Scott was happy with that. Still trembling a little, he scritched at the nape of Logan’s neck and pushed his hands under Logan’s shirt and jacket to scritch his huge shoulders. 

“You’ll have to move before they find us,” Scott mumbled. For now, the fire was warming the alcove, the smoke gathering high in the ceiling among the vents and pipes, and Logan was a very cozy blanket. Satisfied, relying on Logan to wake at the first sound of choppers, Scott let himself drift. 

#

Scott woke with a start, freezing cold. He couldn’t feel the fire and Logan was gone. He pulled his clothes, trying to hear for people, but there was no one. Damn it. He kicked the fire apart and spilled the last of the water over it. That done, he packed up his things, grabbed the fire blankets, and trudged to the surface to wait.

The choppers landed shortly after dawn. Scott knew because the first thing that happened was that Bobby pushed a new pair of goggles into his head and Scott could unwind the bandages and put them on. The red-tinted morning filled his head with light and he sighed. 

“So you’re okay, man?” Bobby was trying to lead Scott to the ice landing pads he’d made for the chippers. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” The place was swarming with people and the noise from the chippers was like a hammer to the head. “Has anyone seen Logan?”

“No sign. He’s not with you?” Bobby stopped, looking around.

“I lost him last night.” Scott looked around. There was no damn way Logan was showing up if he wasn’t back to himself. If he was, he’d have been here already. “Something happened and he…” Scott stopped and shook his head. “You know what, he’ll be fine.” He pointed to the choppers. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll get them to keep a look out for him,” Bobby said. He got an arm around Scott’s waist and led him to the chopper waiting to take them home.

#

“You have no qualms about that judgement call?” Charles’ voice was gentle. 

Scott was clean and dressed but he felt like Charles could see under the cashmere turtleneck to the marks of Logan’s teeth underneath. And, fuck, thinking about it made his dick swell, so that wasn’t a good idea. Scott put his mind firmly on technical matters.

“There’ll be armed forces in the area for a good time. He can get help if he needs it. If he’s not himself, he won’t come back until they’re gone. We don’t hear from him by then, I’ll go back myself.” There, that was suitably commanding. Yeah. Scott felt a little better. 

“You did remarkably well, under the circumstances.” Charles gave him an approving smile. 

“I just used what I had.” Scott shrugged it off. The truth was that aside from a few minutes of pain and frustration and worry, he’d call it a vacation. He’d have been okay with staying if the facilities were better. 

“Well done. Henry tells me you’re in excellent health save for a few strains and bruises.” Not blushing was a skill Scott was grateful that he’d mastered, at least partially. “So, I expect you’ll be ready to work on the designs for the new Blackbird tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be there.” Scott was looking forward to it.

“Go get some sleep for now.” Charles waved him away and Scott left, keeping his sigh of relief in until he could collapse in bed.

#

The new Blackbird plans were made, construction started. The old Blackbird was pulled out of mothballs and Scott got her working while the new one was being made. Jean was Jeannie again; sweet and attentive and worried, in spite of Warren’s glares. It didn’t make Scott feel as good as he’d hoped. The truth was, he didn’t want to get hurt like that ever again. He still wasn’t done hurting by a long shot.

Scott watched for any sign of Logan but, after two weeks, wondered if he’d made the right call. As much as he tried to say he had, his sleep was getting worse. He’d even caught wind of a rumour that he’d abandoned Logan because of their animosity. That stung like acid on torn skin.

Three weeks after the crash, to the day, he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, sleepless again. A cool wind snuck in at the window; Hank had suggested it might help him sleep. Scott took off his glasses, tied a silk scarf over his closed eyes and tried to will himself to sleep. A thump brought him back to consciousness, then a soft thud. 

Scott sat up in bed, reaching for his glasses, when he heard the sound of two heavy boots hitting the floor together, then the soft creak of the floorboards. “Logan?” 

There wasn’t any answer, just the jingle of buckles on a jacket, then the chink of a belt buckle. Scott stayed very still and just breathed. He heard Logan’s shirt come off, the pop of one shoulder and the gunshot crack of Logan’s neck as he shook his head, then a soft noise had to be Logan’s jeans hitting the floor. 

The bed shifted and cold air seeped under the covers as Logan got into bed. Scott reached out and found a bare shoulder. Then Logan was pushing him down without a word, covering Scott’s mouth with his in a harsh kiss that tasted like days of scotch and cigars. Scott knotted his fingers in Logan’s thick hair and kissed him back, hard. 

Logan seemed to remember where the lube was under the pillow because he got it and then shoved Scott over onto his belly. Scott let himself be moved because he wanted to, because he knew what was coming and wanted it. He pushed his hips up to meet Logan’s fingers, whining softly at their thickness and calluses. Logan finger-fucked him just long enough to count for something and then his weight covered Scott’s body, his cock was pushing in, splitting Scott open and making him curse with it. 

There was no talking, nothing at all but Logan taking him hard and fast and making him cry out. Scott couldn’t move the way Logan had him pinned, not when Logan got him by the wrists and held him down. He could hardly breathe, Logan was so heavy on him. He lay there and gave into it; he’d wanted this so long. 

Finally, Logan’s weight was off of him and Logan’s hand in his hair was pulling him up onto his knees. Scott wanted to be angry but couldn’t make himself care. It was good. It was good for both of them and if he ever wanted it different, he could say so. That’d make it over, but he could. 

Scott pushed back once he was on his knees, shivering and asking for more, and Logan moaned. That sounded so fucking good that Scott did it again. “Don’t stop,” he whispered raggedly. “Fuck. Logan.” 

Logan didn’t stop, didn’t relent. He fucked Scott like he owned him, until noises were being wrenched out of Scott’s chest with every thrust. Scott reached down to stroke himself, on the edge of coming, but Logan slapped his hand away hard enough to sting. Logan’s hand closed on him instead and Scott groaned, feeling the rough palm and fingers scrape over the head of his dick, dry on the first stroke and then wetter with every pass. 

Coming was like being caught in undertow. Pleasure sucked Scott under and stole his senses, leaving him crying out, Logan’s name and profanity. He felt heat splash across his own chest in long streaks. Then Logan pulled out before he was done and tumbled him over onto his back. 

Scott was arching and reaching for Logan even as he slid back in, body pressed tight to Scott’s. The pleasure came again with the next stroke, and with Logan’s mouth hot on his, tongue pushing into Scott’s mouth. Logan came with a grunt, moving hard until he was done. Scott shuddered once more and moved to let Logan go as soon as he stopped, letting his arms and legs fall limp to the bed. 

Logan pulled away and got to his feet. Scott heard him pick his jeans up. 

“They give my room away yet?” Logan pulled his pants on and did up the zip and buckle.

“Well, I was gonna put up an ad for a replacement,” Scott said dryly. He had no idea why he was smiling, but he wasn’t going to think too hard about it. “You know, down at the pound.” 

There was a pause and then an empty boot hit Scott in the hip. Laughing, he pitched it back. “Hey, blind guy here,” he protested even though the laughing ruined any chance of sounding hurt. 

“Yeah, I gotta use for yer white cane,” Logan growled. 

“No, thanks. I think that’s covered, since you decided to come back.” The jacket was next and Scott caught it as it hit him in the chest. Logan must have his boots on now. Scott wrapped his arms around the jacket and hung onto it a little longer.

“What’d ya tell ‘em?” Logan’s voice was soft now and it wasn’t the t-shirt sliding over his head that muffled it. 

“The alarm did something to your head. You weren’t yourself, but you were still helpful.” Some things, Scott wasn’t about to share.

“That it?” Scott felt a tug on the jacket, a request for Scott to let go instead of Logan pulling it out of his arms. 

“It’s the truth,” Scott said, letting go of the jacket.

“Yeah.” The buckles jingled as Logan pulled it on. “Guess it is.” He paused and in his mind’s eye, Scott could see him standing in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets.

“You want a beer?” Scott sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. “I can’t sleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” 

Scott tugged off the blindfold and put the glasses on, then got up, crossing the room to grab some boxers he didn’t care about, jeans, and a shirt. He wasn’t going to be that comfortable but he didn’t feel like stopping to shower. Logan wasn’t one to wait. He could feel Logan’s eyes on him as he dressed and turned to see Logan lighting a cigar, eyes still on Scott. 

“Here?” They didn’t have to stay around if Logan didn’t feel like it. Logan quirked an eyebrow at him and shrugged. 

Scott found a pair of boots and stepped barefoot into them. They were old and comfortable, so was the worn suede jacket with the shredded lining that Jean had tried to throw out more times than he could count. 

“Harry’s still open.” Logan crossed the room and slung one leg over the windowsill. “Bike’s this way.” He disappeared into the night and Scott stopped to get his keys and wallet and make sure he had money. God only knew if Logan ever bothered with it. 

It wasn’t a bad drop down to the rosebed and then Scott turned to see Logan on a bike, probably stolen, that had left tire marks all the way from the drive to right under Scott’s window. Subtle. Scott grabbed Logan’s belt and slid onto the back of the bike. 

“Not gonna lecture me about needin’ a helmet?” Logan rumbled as he kicked the bike to life. 

“You planning on crashing?” Scott made sure he was settled up against Logan, and that he had a good grip.

“I never plan on crashin’, Summers.” Logan turned them around in a wide arc and aimed them for the front gates that were swinging open for them. “Do you?”

Scott laughed and held on as Logan accelerated. The wind in his face and hair felt fantastic. “No, but sometimes I wish I did. It’s not always a bad thing.” 

“An’ you say I’m th’ crazy one.” Logan leaned into the turn and Scott moved with him. The road was a black ribbon under a starry sky and Logan left the speed limit and the mansion in their dust.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's still trying to have—or not have—that non-relationship with Logan and that'd be great if Jean wasn't interested in trying to save him from it.

Scott had enjoyed the time after the crash. He’d enjoyed Logan when he was crazy. That, to Scott, spelled trouble. Logan wasn’t a pet, and he wasn’t a lover. He wasn’t even Scott’s friend. It wasn’t as though Scott had forgotten. He was single, and lonely, and once in a while, Logan came around through the window or the door and fucked him senseless and it made things better for a little while. Being lonely was okay, though. It was a transitional thing, he figured. One of these days, he’d meet someone new. He was dealing with it okay.

That was why he wanted to bang his head on the nearest surface when Jean cornered him in the garage one afternoon with, “Can we talk?”

At first, he was afraid it was about something going wrong with Warren. Not something he wanted in on. “Sure,” he said, wiping his hands off on a rag and closing the hood of the Explorer. “What is it?”

“I’m just worried about you.” Jean looked at him with that expression that said she was bravely avoiding going plunging around in his head for answers. “And this thing with Logan.”

“Look, it’s not like we make that much noise.” Oh, fuck, Scott did not want to discuss this.

“No, that’s improved.” Jean actually blushed at that. Scott didn’t know she blushed at anything anymore. “But I don’t think this is good for you, Scott. It’s not a healthy relationship.”

“That’s okay, since it’s not a relationship.” Scott appreciated her concern, a little. “It’s just… whatever it is.”

“It’s not like you, Scott. You never would have…”

“No, I wouldn’t. Not when I was with you, at least.” Scott shook his head. “But that was then and this is now. Hell, Jean, it’s not like you didn’t see the guy had some merits. I just happen to agree with you.”

“Whatever stupid revenge thing this is, it’s got to stop. Scott, it’s not good for the students.”

“Not good…” Scott had to take a moment so he didn’t say something really rude. “I think that we’re discreet enough around the kids. It was fine for you and I to have a consensual relationship. It should be fine for Logan and I. And it’s not a revenge thing.” Well, not anymore.

“He parks his bike under your window at night and leaves huge tire tracks in the lawn that are making the gardeners crazy.” Now Jean was flushed again; her hands fluttered like agitated birds. “They aren’t stupid. They’re talking about it.”

“Let them talk.” Scott started putting away his tools. “It’ll probably be good for them. Better than when they thought I’d left him to freeze because I’m just the kind of guy who does shit like that to people he doesn’t like.”

“They never…” Jean didn’t bother to finish the sentence because they both knew it would give Scott fair reason to actually blow up at her.

“Yeah, they did.” Scott closed the drawer of socket wrenches and turned to look at her. “Look, Jean. You dumped me for Warren.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud. “You and I just didn’t have whatever you think you can have with him. And that’s okay. You shouldn’t compromise. I’m happy for you. My personal life is just that. Personal. Look the other way if it bothers you.”

“I still care about you.” Jean came close and Scott could smell her hair and perfume. The flood of memories that brought back made him heartsick. When she put her hand on his arm, her skin on his burned. There had always been something about her that made him crazy. He’d always been hers. “We’re still friends. Can’t I worry about my friend?”

Scott wanted to say no, but he also wanted to kiss her and to beg her to come back to him. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he said, trying not to pull her into his arms. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Jean stroked his cheek. “I know you.”

“Maybe I’m not, but it’s not Logan’s fault.” Scott extricated himself from her gently, trying to keep his composure. God, she smelled so good, so sweet. Scott knew how it would feel to undo the tight knot of her hair, to feel it fall against his cheek as he leaned in to kiss her neck.

“You’ve never been in a hurry to absolve him from blame.” Jean stepped closer as soon as Scott had gotten himself untangled and put a hand on his chest. “Are you sure you’re not just… looking to hurt someone?” She tilted her head back and looked up at him, green eyes wide, red lips slightly parted. “Maybe me?” she added in a whisper.

Scott stepped back and bumped into the tool chest. The damn wheels were locked so it wasn’t going anywhere. He swallowed hard so that he could speak. “It’s not like that,” he said.

“I understand if you hate me.” She was so close now that he could feel the heat of her body; one more step and her neat grey wool skirt would be brushing the front of his faded jeans where his erection was growing hot and heavy. Her hand cupped his cheek again, fingertips sliding over the stubble she’d always considered a sign of laziness. “It’s okay if you want to hurt me,” she whispered, taking that last step.

Scott’s breath caught; that was nothing less than an offer. He could kiss her, bruise her mouth, pull the pins out of her hair. Her breasts were pressed agains his chest, so soft; he looked down and could see the black lace of the bra she wore under her green shirt. Hell, the kids were all out on a field trip with Charles and Warren. He could pull up her skirt, push her back against the Explorer and have her right here. And then, the dry part of his mind noted, he’d lose whatever dignity he had left here.

“I don’t.” Maybe he was lying, maybe he wasn’t, Scott didn’t know. What he did know was that he wanted her back so badly his body was alive with it, and he also knew that if he gave it, it wouldn’t actually bring her back to him. “I appreciate your concern.” He took her hand from his face and pressed it to her chest, pressing her back. “But this is my problem now.”

“I miss you,” Jean said as she stepped away. “I’m here if you need me. As a friend.” Her eyes were sad and her mouth was still so red that it begged to be kissed.

“I won’t forget.” Scott turned his back on her and went back to sorting tools. She stood there a moment longer and then he heard her footsteps retreating.

Once she was gone, Scott exhaled and sagged down onto the bumper of the Explorer, trying to pull himself together again. He missed her so much. The little box with her engagement ring was still in the top drawer of his dresser. He missed the warmth of her sleeping next to him at night, the smell of her hair, the smiles that were his alone. Scott put his head in his hands. He missed their future, too, the real family that he’d always wanted.

Scott sat there a long time, then stood. His back ached from leaning over the car; he wasn’t getting any younger. Finally, something popped and he could move on to fix whatever Sam had done to the clutch on the old Jeep.

#

“Yeah, well, I’ll keep that in mind on my way out!” The door from the house flew open and Logan burst into the garage.

Scott clutched at his head where he’d slammed it into the hood of the Jeep as he startled. “What the fuck?” he said faintly.

Logan was still cursing under his breath and Scott heard him kick the stand out from under one of the bikes. Specifically, Scott’s bike. Scott put the hood of the Jeep down.

“So,” he said, leaning on it. “Why do you always steal my bike?”

“Because I don’t like ya.” Logan started it up. “Don’t like yer girlfriend much, either, come ta think on it.”

“My what?” Scott could feel his blood pressure rise so fast that his head pounded with it. He pushed himself to standing and came around the Jeep to intercept Logan leaving with the bike.

“Girl. Friend,” Logan said. “Ya know, the one that just lectured me on treatin’ ya right. Seems we got us a dysfunctional relationship.”

Scott was stunned into stopping in his tracks. “My. She. What? We don’t have a relationship!”

“Yer damn right we don’t.” Logan took off in a spray of gravel that stung up Scott’s chest and pinged off of his goggles.

Scott watched him go and clamped down on the urge to whip his goggles off and shoot Logan off the bike. Set a good example. His head throbbed. Set a good example. He took a deep breath and walked into the garage. He got back to the lockers before he snapped.

“Fuck!” The roar came up from the churning heat in his belly. He punched a locker door hard enough to dent the steel and he could feel the skin split along his knuckles. “Jesus mother-fucking son-of-a-whore Christ. Goddamn cock-sucking stone-crazy no-good bitch. Bastard whoreson murdering in-fucking-sane yellow-bellied dog-fucker.” Every word came with another punch or kick or slam of a knee until the row of lockers was ringing and rocking. “Fuck. All. This.” He smashed his foot into one of the supports over and over again. “Fuck!” His head hit the metal and it felt so damn good but the impact sent him reeling backward.

Huge arms wrapped around his chest and a silken voice was murmuring in his ear. “I’d rather you kept your cranium intact, Scott.” Hank was softly-furred, tender-voiced, and utterly inexorable. “Done?”

Scott lashed out once more, one foot punching in a door entirely and making the row of lockers lurch on its moorings for the last time. “Done.” He was breathing too hard, too fast, ragged inhalations followed by exhalations that sounded like someone was punching him in the stomach. Blood was running down his fingers, running down his shins. And that, Scott thought as he let his head fall back against Hank’s shoulder, was why he moved out and started drinking.

“I think I should take a look at those hands,” Hank said. He loosened his grip but didn’t let go yet. Scott got his feet under him, though, and stood on his own, pulling away. Tears clenched the back of his throat and burned at his eyes. It wasn’t like he had anything left to lose, but he kept losing anyway.

“Whatever you like.” Scott headed for the house. He knew he was in for a lecture from the big blue guy. He’d just have to sit there and take it.

#

The lecture didn’t come. Hank kept his eyes on his work and wordlessly cleaned up, stitched where he needed to, and bandaged the rest until Scott was patched up. The workboots had saved his feet but taking on sheet metal with fists and knees hadn’t been Scott’s best decision.

“How’s the head?” Hank cupped Scott’s face in careful hands and inspected the huge welt rising at Scott’s hairline.

“Stupid.” It hurt. But Scott thought he was seeing straight.

“Everyone has their limits.” Hank got out an ice pack and wrapped it in a clean cloth before handing it to Scott. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Scott held the ice pack to the lump; the sooner he got it to stop swelling, the better.

“You might feel better if you do.” Hank started cleaning up the mess of bloody gauze and sponge, bits of tape and bandage, and a few stray needles.

“News has to get down to the cellar.” Scott laid back on the examining table that Hank had propped up so he could rest comfortably.

“Ah, well,” Hank said. “Rumour is one thing. I prefer to corroborate all such information with a reliable source.”

“What do you want to know?” Scott closed his eyes and tried not to think about how much he hurt outside, now. It wasn’t easing the pain inside the way he’d hoped. “Jean left me for Warren. I’m happy for her. She’s worried about me. Worried enough to hit on me, apparently. And then she had to interfere in…” He let that slide because he didn’t know what to say.

“And then she decided to intervene in your casual sexual relationship with Logan.” Hank spread a heavy blanket over Scott. It must have come straight out of the warmer because it was almost painfully hot. It felt so good. “She seems very conflicted.”

“It’s not a relationship,” Scott said reflexively.

“I meant it in a small ‘r’ way.” Hank lifted Scott’s head and slid a soft pillow under it. “A manner of relating to one another. Sexual contact and mutual benefit that doesn’t extend beyond the bedroom. Bedroom being used loosely to describe any venue for sexual activity, of course, since I am unaware of all the details of your shared sexual practices.”

Somehow, when Hank said it that way, it didn’t seem bad at all. Not even embarrassing. “Well, yeah. That. And why the hell is Jeannie conflicted? And why is she taking it out on me?”

“I’d say because you and she shared a long period of intimacy and after some distance, she finds herself reminded of what attracted her to you.” Hank puttered about the room and Scott worked out the sound of the coffee maker being put on. “Also, aside from a small amount of acting out, you have recovered admirably from what has to be a devastating loss.” That made Scott feel better, loosened a knot in his chest that someone understood that. “Moreover, the person who used to pursue her against all odds, thereby bolstering her somewhat unstable ego, is no longer interested in her.”

“Right. So it’s all about her.” Scott couldn’t help laughing a little.

“Of course it is.” Hank came over and put a hand on Scott’s arm. “I realize that not everyone thinks that way, but most people do. I would point out also that, to add insult to injury, you and that other person have seemed to come to a workable arrangement of some sort that is satisfactory to both of you, at least on a physical level, and you have also been making an impressive team with that person. So, yes. Jean is conflicted.”

“I can see that.” Scott sighed and remembered just in time not to shake his head. “She doesn’t have to worry about me handling things well, or having anything to do with Logan now. Good for her.”

“I’d say that time may mend both those things.” Hank put some capsules in Scott’s hand. “Take those.” Scott opened his eyes and took the water that was also offered. “Are you feeling capable of accompanying me on a pick-up?”

Scott sat up and took the pills, then assessed himself. Eyes were fine. Overall, his hands were okay. “Yeah, I can go.”

“Excellent. Just over to Chicago; we’ve been expecting this call. A little girl named Maria needs a new place to stay.” Hank poured coffee into a pair of travel mugs. “I think we’re best to leave the uniforms aside. Why don’t you go change and I’ll meet you in the Blackbird.”

“Sure.” Scott relinquished the warm blanket reluctantly and got to his feet. “Thanks, Hank.”

“I’m more than an aesthetic fixture, Mr. Summers,” Hank said, then gave Scott a grin that was all fangs. “Do keep that in mind henceforth. Your coffee, sir.” He held out a mug that had a biohazard symbol on the side.

“I’ll remember.” Scott took the mug and gave Hank a smile in return. Pain in the body aside, he did feel a little better now.

#

Scott winced as he followed Hank into a tenement in the heart of a crumbling Chicago neighborhood. The ‘monster’ drew stares but Hank was oblivious. Shauntay, the social worker who had summoned them fluttered on ahead, her coat flapping around her knees, her arms full of folders.

“She’s been out of treatment for about two weeks now, but we can’t get her in a placement.” Shauntay looked over her shoulder at Hank. “No offense, but she doesn’t look normal. And it’s upsetting to people. Especially with her history.”

“What would that be?” Scott wondered what Charles was getting them into this time.

“There were a series of suspicious deaths of children in her care, her siblings,” Shauntay said, her voice low. “We think now that it might have been her sister, Lucia. Lucia is severely mentally delayed. She’s been placed in permanent protective care at an institute here.”

“What about her parents?” Scott was trying to shut the stench of poverty out of his nose, trying not to remember what it was like to be in places like this.

“Dead. The mother overdosed two years ago.” Shauntay stopped in front of a battered door. “The stepfather died six months ago. We don’t know which girl did it, but we have no reason not to believe it was in self-defence. Lucia is expecting his child.”

Scott sucked in air and now he wanted to be ill. “I see,” he said tightly. “If she’ll come with us, we’ll see what we can do.”

“Maria is a bright little girl,” Shauntay said, knocking on the door. “I met her before she changed. She had so much potential. She was so strong.”

The door rattled open an inch on a set of chains and a wizened face peered out. “It’s you.” The door slammed and the chains were pulled back. “Come on in.” The speaker was an elderly black woman whose eyes skimmed right up Hank’s body, then her lips twisted. “Well, I guess she’ll be right at home,” she said cryptically. “Go on and talk to her; she’s in the sitting room. I’ve got her papers.”

“Come on,” Shauntay said. “Why don’t you speak to her,” she turned to Hank. “Mr. Summers and I can go over the paperwork.”

“Actually, I think Mr. Summers should speak with Maria. I’m the only one like me at the Institute. Maria will still have to deal with normal-looking people.” Hank gestured for Scott to go ahead, and then he followed the old woman into the kitchen.

The sitting room was an alcove with a chair and a tiny couch separated by a low wooden table covered with a white cotton doily. Light filtered through lace sheers and illuminated the soft ruddy fur of a feline child dressed in a frilled purple dress seated stiffly in the chair. “Hello there,” Scott said gently. “You must be Maria. I’m Scott.”

The girl looked at him, cat-face impassive, but her eyes flared just a little and Scott could see the fear. Scott took off his gloves and put them in his coat pocket, then came over to sit down opposite her. Once he was sitting, he held out his hand to her. “It’s good to meet you.” When she took his hand, tentatively, he could see that she had fairly normal bone structure, which meant she’d have little issue with using a computer.

“What happened to your hand?” Her voice was soft and sibillant but perfectly comprehensible.

“Ah.” Scott had almost forgotten about the bandages. “I had a bad morning,” he said honestly. “And I took it out on the lockers in the garage. I think I lost.” He gave her a wry look. “I try to be more mature than that.”

“I get mad easy,” Maria said. “No one wants me cause of it.”

“Well, I think you probably have some good reasons to be mad,” Scott said. “A little angry doesn’t scare us much.”

“You mean at your school?” Maria pulled her legs up and hugged them.

“Yeah. I was mad all the time when I was your age.” Scott shrugged it off.

“Why?”

“I couldn’t see,” he said. “Or, I could, but…” He took off his glasses and handed them over to her. “I have to wear these now. So I don’t have it so bad.”

“They’re pretty. You can’t see without them?”

“I can. It’s just that everywhere I look, red beams come out of my eyes and blow everything up.” Scott reached for the glasses and she gave them back. Good sign.

“You’re kidding.” He opened his eyes behind the glasses to see her expression set in lines of pure disbelief.

“Nope. We get to the right place, I’ll show you.” Scott smiled at her. “We’d really like you to come with us.”

“What about Lucia?” Maria turned toward the curtains, peering out as though she could still see her sister.

“She has to stay here for now,” Scott said. “But we can come back and visit her.”

“Long way to New York,” Maria said, her voice heavy with sorrow.

“It is if you don’t have your own plane,” Scott pointed out. “But we have one we could use for emergencies, or for special things like coming to get you. Or someone could take you some other way. Distance isn’t really an issue.”

“You got a plane? Who flies it?” Maria’s ears flicked and she wrinkled her nose.

“Me.” Scott gave her a grin. “And my friend who’s with me, Dr. McCoy. The Institute is a good place, Maria. And we want all our students to stay close with their families.”

“You make it sound like I got a choice.” Maria picked at the lace on her dress. “They’re just gonna sign the papers and that’s all. And no one wants me here anyway. You don’t have to make it sound good.”

“There’s always choices,” Scott said gently. “And it matters that you’re happy.”

“Don’t got a choice about this.” Maria yanked savagely at one ear and Scott winced. “Gonna be a freak no matter where I go.”

“Not at the Institute,” Scott said. He held out his hand. “Come on, let me show you something. I came down here with a guy who’s probably the smartest guy in the world. He’s funny and people like him and he goes on dates with pretty girls. His name is Henry McCoy, but everyone calls him Beast. I’ll show you why.”

Maria let him lead her to the door to the kitchen and she peered around his body to look in. Hank had shed his coat and was sitting at the table in his shirtsleeves, blue fur overflowing at collar and cuffs. Behind Scott, Maria made a little squeak and Hank turned to look their way.

“How goes it over there?” Hank rumbled.

Maria’s little paws were clenched in the back of Scott’s coat and her tail was wrapped around one of his ankles. Still, she hadn’t run away; she was looking at Hank with eyes as wide as saucers.

“I just thought Maria should meet you before we decided whether or not to join us.” Scott knew his coat would be a write-off with the little kitten nails shredding it, but he didn’t care.

“A wise plan.” Hank managed to bow while seated. “Good to meet you, Maria.”

That sent the cat-girl skittering back into the sitting room where she stood staring at Scott. “He’s a…”

“Beast?” Scott followed and smiled at her. “We like him that way. Did I mention that we have a wall-sized flat screen TV in the rec room, a big kitchen, a swimming pool, and all that good stuff in addition to the fuzzy science teacher out there?”

“And you’ll let me come see Lucia?” Maria twisted her hands together, her tail twitching with indecision.

“I promise.” Scott crouched down in front of her so she was looking down at him. “I had a brother once and when our parents died, he got adopted and I didn’t. I went to foster care alone. I’m still looking for him, and it’s been almost fifteen years. I would never keep you away from Lucia.” Talking about Alex made Scott’s eyes sting with tears that he blinked away. “If I have to bring you here myself, every time, I will. I promise.”

“I’m sorry ‘bout your brother.” Maria nodded and took a deep breath. “Even if they didn’t make me come, I’d probably come. So I guess I better get my stuff.”

“Need help?” Scott straightened, wincing at the pain in his knees.

“It’s not much.” Maria shrugged and her ears dropped. Shame. “I’m okay.”

#

By the time it was well past dark, Scott was in a good mood. Maria had only had a few little bags of things, and most of those were second-hand. Scott had turned her over to Jubilee, trusting Logan’s streetwise little minion to be good to the feral child. Sure enough, when he went for a walkthrough of the student wing, there were hysterical giggles coming from Jubi’s room where she was doing a fine imitation of Logan for Maria’s amusement.

Scott was whistling when he got down to the kitchen to get himself a beer. After today, he needed it.

“Pickin’ fights with someone who ain’t me?” Logan’s voice was a rumble in the shadows. Scott turned to see him leaning by the back door, outlined in the faint light that filtered through the screen. “Ya stink like cat.”

“New kid.” Scott turned away and got out a beer. “And I wasn’t fighting with anyone but myself.” He cracked the beer open and took a drink, then turned around again. “You here to tell me where I can find what’s left of my bike?” Again. Somehow, making Scott go pick up the pieces was as much fun as stealing the damn thing.

“In th’ garage.” Logan hadn’t moved. “What’s the new kid like?”

“Scared little cat. Mostly human and maybe we can get her to shift back and forth. Not sure yet.” Scott sat down at the breakfast bar, even though it put his back to Logan, and smoothed down the bandages over his knuckles. The swelling was impressive and it hurt just to hold the beer. “But she’s just a little animal under the surface. Guess we all are.” He picked up the beer and took a drink.

“Some more th’n others.” It wasn’t an apology, it was conversation, but from Logan, it was like an opened door. And, Scott’s bike was back.

“Yeah. You want a beer?” Scott pushed himself to his feet and headed for the fridge. He opened it and got another out but when he turned around, Logan was drinking his. “You just have this thing about taking what’s mine.” Scott closed the fridge door with a bang. What the fuck, it was just a beer. Why should it piss him off? It did, though. He cracked the second beer and drank half of it down on his way back to his seat.

“Could be.” Logan leaned on the counter and pulled a cigar out of his pocket.

“You can’t…” Smoke in here. “Nevermind.” What the hell. What the fucking hell. Scott was too tired and sore, inside and out, to give a shit. If Charles wanted Logan to go away, he’d deal with it. Scott took refuge in another drink of beer. “I didn’t say anything to her,” he said after they’d been silent a little while.

“I figured.”

“Then…” What the fuck? Why blame me, why call her my girlfriend, why, why why? Scott refrained from shouting. Logan turned around and left while Scott was trying not to implode. The door banged shut behind him and Scott could see his silhouette on the back step as he bent to light his cigar.

Scott drained his beer and got two more out of the fridge, then ventured out back. Logan was sitting on the step, staring out over the dark lawn, using the empty beer can as an ash tray. Scott sat down beside him and wordlessly offered him the other beer.

“Thanks.” Logan took it and drank, then offered Scott the cigar.

Scott hadn’t smoked in years. Jean hated it, which was one of the blood-boiling things about her attraction to Logan. Scott put that rage-inducing thought out of his head and took the cigar. To his surprise, it was an exceptionally good one made better by the fact that Logan’s mouth tasted like it so often. He exhaled and passed it back, finding his body responding instinctively to the smell and the taste of beer.

They smoked and drank in silence and Scott’s tension eased by degrees. It was good to be here, good to be here with Logan. When he didn’t hate Logan like poison, he liked him pretty well. There was a good deal to like.

By the time they were done, Scott was relaxed except for the pain in his hands and head and knees and the slow flow of desire under his skin. He knew Logan could smell it on him; there wasn’t anything to do or say. Logan stood up as Scott was shifting to rise, and he offered Scott his hand. The help was welcome; Scott wasn’t sure he was going to get up without it.

They went into the house in silence, Scott stopping to toss the beer cans in the recycling, then headed for the staff quarters. Logan’s room was down at the far end and when Scott stopped at his own door, Logan kept going. Scott wasn’t expecting anything else.

Scott changed the bandages on his hands as best he could, then his knees, and took the painkillers Hank had given him so he could sleep. He stripped down to nothing and padded over to the bed where he took off his glasses and was ready to put on his sleeping blindfold when there was a tap at the room.

Who the hell? Scott put the glasses back on and realized that he was naked. Damn it. He grabbed the robe that he never wore off the back of the door, wrapped it around himself, and yanked the door open, half-expecting to find a student there.

Logan was leaning in the doorway, hands in his pockets. “C’n I come in?”

Scott was sure he’d fallen asleep or something. Logan had never asked to come in, never asked for… well, anything. He stepped back, holding the door open. “Yeah, sure.” Was this going to be about their non-relationship and how it was going to now be an ex-non-relationship, or… Scott’s mind was churning as he shut the door behind Logan.

“At th’ base,” Logan said. “What was I like?” He paced across Scott’s room to the window, not looking back at him.

“Feral,” Scott said, pulling the robe closed a little more. “All animal. And in pain.”

“Did I… did I hurt ya?” Logan leaned on the window frame, looking out into the night.

“No.” Scott sat down on the bed and watched Logan, trying to study the sliver of Logan’s face that he could see. “Not once you knew me. You were pretty pleasant company when you stuck around.” Logan nodded and was quiet for a while.

“Nothin’ bad?”

“I did worse today.” Scott snorted at that, looking down at his bandages.

“Did we…” Logan turned and gestured between them.

“Yeah.” It hurt a little to admit it, like Scott should be ashamed of it.

“Didn’t hurt ya then?” Logan leaned his shoulder on the windowframe and Scott could read the tension in the calculated slouch.

“No. It was my idea, mostly,” Scott admitted. “Seemed the best way to make friends. You liking sex so much and all.”

Logan snorted at that and shook his head. “People do like to say I ain’t picky.”

“You are, though,” Scott said before he could censor it.

“Just wary. Nothin’ about it worth bein’ sloppy over.” Logan nodded and pushed away from the window. “Thanks. I was just wonderin’.” He headed for the door, slowly.

Scott wondered what it was like, missing all the time that Logan was, with no one to ask about it. And then he wondered what it meant that Logan gave a damn what happened between them in that abandoned base. He stopped wondering when he realized Logan’s hand was on the doorknob.

“Logan.”

“Yeah?” Logan turned the knob but didn’t open up the door.

Scott now wondered what the hell he was doing but the truth was that he didn’t want Logan to go. He wanted to touch and to fuck and to forget and to just /be/ for a little while. He leaned back in the pillows, one foot up on the bed, ignoring the way it made the robe slide away from his body. “You want to borrow the bike from now on, you go ahead. I don’t mind.”

Logan turned around slowly. “Sure, take all th’ damn fun outta it,” he grumbled.

“Just trying not to care so much.” Scott shrugged and flexed his hands. “Not good for my health.”

“You c’n stop carin’ like I c’n stop healin’.” Logan walked back to the edge of the bed, his eyes glittering in the dark. “It’s a curse on eacha us. Mebbe I should just make it up to ya when I take off with it.” He flicked one side of Scott’s robe away, baring one leg all the way to the waist. Scott could see the heat in his eyes, in the way he moved like a predator.

“You could do that. Say thank you or something.”

Logan grabbed the tie of Scott’s robe and jerked it open, then pushed the fabric aside. “Or somethin’.” He ran a hand down Scott’s belly until he was curling his fingers around Scott’s erection. Scott watched him, almost holdling his breath.

Moving fluidly, Logan dropped to one knee and pushed Scott’s thighs further apart. One foot on the floor, one on the bed, Scott was spread out and for a moment, he felt a flash of insecurity. Logan’s soft rumble of pleasure was a compliment like no other, and then Logan was taking Scott’s dick in his mouth.

Scott’s hands hurt too much to grab Logan’s hair and he realized that there was no way he was going to be on his knees tonight. None of that mattered in the heat of Logan’s mouth on him, that sweet, hot suction and scrape of sharp teeth that he hadn’t felt since that first time. Logan’s hands were tight on Scott’s hips, pure strength that felt so good to struggle against while he gasped and whimpered.

Grabbing anything was out, biting his lip was out, Scott couldn’t do anything but lie there and try to breathe and say Logan’s name over and over as Logan sucked him deep, like he wanted to do it, like he liked doing it. The thought that he was being loud flickered through his head and that just made it better.

“Fuck, Logan.” Scott tried to warn him as he felt his body tightening up. “Oh, fuck, please, I’m… Oh, fuck…” And then he was coming and he could feel Logan’s purr. That made him jerk all over again and he arched. “Fuck, you are so good.”

Scott was limp and boneless with pleasure when Logan crawled up over him. He managed to lean up, asking for a kiss. He got it, tasting himself on Logan’s tongue. Oh, God, that was hot. Logan’s hand slid into his hair, tilting his head back so that Logan could fuck Scott’s mouth with his tongue.

Please. Scott’s mouth was busy but he knew that Logan understood his body language, the way he arched and put both feet wide apart on the bed. He couldn’t get Logan slick himself, not with his hands like this, but Logan managed just fine, never pulling his mouth from Scott’s for a moment.

Scott wondered if Logan were going to turn him over but Logan just pushed his thick, slick cock in like this, still kissing him. Scott wound his arms around Logan’s neck, wrapped his thighs high around Logan’s waist, and pulled him in closer. He couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of this kind of pain, the ache of Logan sliding inside.

Logan was surprisingly gentle, putting Scott in mind of the feral he had been with in that cold, empty place, after Logan had left them. Logan dragged his teeth down over Scott’s neck and Scott arched to get more of it, suddenly wondering if Logan remembered, or if his body did. He lifted his head to bite Logan in turn, getting his teeth into the side of Logan’s neck.

That got Scott a snarl and Logan lifted his head to let Scott have more to bite. Logan’s stubble was rough against Scott’s tongue and lips and he made the same soft submissive noises he had before with every lick and nip. He ran his hands over Logan’s powerful arms, up his shoulders, and over his chest. The fur was silky under his palms and just turned him on more; he was getting hard again with every passing minute.

Logan’s rhythm faltered and he pulled away from Scott’s tender bites and kisses. Scott realized that he was struggling not to come, that this was turning Logan on, that just maybe this wasn’t simply about putting their bodies together until they both got off. That might have been the biggest turn on of the night; it made Scott whimper and he hooked an arm around Logan’s neck to pull him down for one more kiss.

Logan yielded to it, kissing Scott until one of his sharp teeth cut into Scott’s lip. He whined and licked at the little wound, fucking Scott harder and making him moan, low and shuddering. A few more licks and then he leaned back, curling one hand around Scott’s dick and stroking it to fullness.

“Fuck me,” Scott whispered. The way Logan’s eyes glittered, it was like he enjoyed hearing it. He pulled his knees up, sliding his hands behind them and watching Logan respond to the look of him all spread out and wanting. Logan grunted and shifted angle to hit Scott’s prostate and all Scott’s calculation went out the window.. “Oh, fuck, yes.” That was so much louder than it should have been.

Logan’s snarl was almost laughter. His hand on Scott was rough but steady, his cock kept pushing Scott toward a second orgasm. Maybe it was the pain pills, maybe it was just stress, but Scott hadn’t been this loud about things in a long time. He let himself go, making those same feral noises and cries he had back up north, and it felt so good to do to, to just let Logan have him.

“Like that,” Logan rasped. His voice was so unexpected and thick with need that it made Scott shiver. “Let it go.”

Scott did, he let go and let Logan push him past pleasure into that place where nothing hurt anymore. He didn’t know what he was saying, or if he was saying it out loud as he arched and went taut and shook. It didn’t matter, either, because as soon as the first splash of come hit his belly, he felt Logan jerk, heard him grunt. Scott opened his eyes and tried to focus enough to watch Logan, head flung back and muscles standing out in relief, coming with long, hard strokes that shook the bed.

Slowly, their bodies came to rest. Logan slumped down over Scott’s body and Scott remembered lying like this with him, with the feral, and he scritched the back of Logan’s neck before he thought about what he was doing. All Logan did, though, was rumble contentedly.

This was okay. Scott wrapped his arms loosely around Logan’s shoulders just for a moment, just until he felt Logan tense to rise, and then he let go. He was cold when Logan’s body was off of him. Watching Logan do his pants back up made Scott realize that the man had stayed dressed again. That just made him smile. Logan was what he was. It was all good. Eventually, not feeling denim between his thighs would be an oddity.

“She wants ya back,” Logan said, once he’d done his pants up and fastened his belt.

“She thinks she does.” Scott got up, thinking to go have a shower. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No?”

Scott realized that Logan was watching him move. He took the robe off and tossed it over the end of the bed.

“No. I’m done.” Scott shrugged. “I hate it, but I am.” He wanted her back so much, and he couldn’t do it. Maybe he’d go insane and then he could have her back, but until then, he was done.

“Good t’ know.” Logan didn’t turn for the door as Scott padded toward the bathroom. Scott looked over his shoulder but Logan didn’t move. He watched Scott until Scott was out of sight, but he didn’t follow. Just before the shower came on, Scott heard the door open and close.

All was right with the world. As right as it was going to get. And that was enough.


End file.
